


The First Kiss (Goodbye)

by lionessvalenti



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Multi, Polyamory, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-08
Updated: 2010-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal had his life together, until Kate showed up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Kiss (Goodbye)

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by lefaym.

Neal prepared himself for a night in alone. He opened a bottle of wine and carried it into the living room. He sat down on the sofa and poured himself a glass, setting the bottle on the coffee table next to his drawing pad. He glanced up as Elizabeth walked down the stairs, carrying her shoes in one hand. She was conservatively dressed, really, her dress knee-length and the neckline only revealing a hint of cleavage, but there had always been something about a woman carrying her high heel shoes instead of wearing them that Neal couldn't resist.

"Whoa," Neal said, sitting forward again. "Tell me again why you have to go, too."

She grinned, and sat down next to him on the sofa. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then looked at the coffee table, surveying the wine, drawing pad, and a box of charcoals. "Is this your plan for the night?"

"That's the idea," he replied. "I was thinking putting on some Puccini. The sort of thing I can only do when I'm here alone and without the competition of the television."

"Sounds lovely," Elizabeth replied, threading her fingers through Neal's hair. "It a shame I can't stay. But then again, Peter's parents are taking us to a very nice restaurant. I know you wouldn't want to deny me fine cuisine. I wish you could come with us."

"I guess that's not an option," Neal said, then he grinned. "I don't do well with in-laws anyway."

She laughed. "I find that incredibly hard to believe. Five minutes with you and they would be completely charmed."

"Assuming I haven't lost my touch."

"Oh, no, Neal, you haven't." She leaned forward, kissing him softly, and he smiled against her lips.

"Are you kissing my wife?" Peter asked over the thumping rhythm of his walking down the stairs.

Neal pulled away from Elizabeth, and looked up at Peter, resisting the urge to tell him to go back upstairs and change his tie. It was truly horrible, but Peter really didn't appreciate those comments. "To be fair," he said, "she kissed me first."

Peter chuckled. "She does have good taste."

"She does," Neal agreed. He paused and added, "I'm making a point to not turn this around on you and say something about your tie." He might be reformed, but he was still really bad at resisting his urges.

"What's wrong with my tie?" Peter asked, holding it out in front of him, so he could get a better look.

Neal sat back on the couch and shrugged. "Nothing. It's fine."

He considered the tie for a moment, then sighed, pulling at the knot as he walked toward the stairs. "I'll be right back."

"I would suggest the blue one," Neal called after him. "The nice one!"

Elizabeth laughed and leaned over to put on her shoes. "It's going to be a dull night without you. You should just come with us."

"And tell Peter's parents what, exactly? The truth?"

"Probably not, no," she admitted. "I don't think he ever told them, or anyone, about his interest in men. When we got married, I think he guessed it wouldn't be an issue anymore."

"He told you," Neal said.

"He tells me everything."

Neal smiled and scratched at his eyebrow. "I make things difficult, don't I?"

"It's worth it. We love you," Elizabeth replied, taking his hand. "And you know Peter thinks so, too. Or we wouldn't be here."

Peter came back downstairs, wearing the blue tie. "Does this meet your approval?"

"_Much_ better," Neal replied, standing up. He faced Peter and straightened the tie for him, though it was unnecessary. "I like it."

"Of course you do, you got it for me."

Neal grinned and kissed Peter, meaning for it to be quick, but somehow, his mouth lingered. Peter chuckled from deep within in his throat, and pressed in harder. Neal slid his hand inside Peter's jacket, his skin warm through his shirt.

"Honey?" Elizabeth said, resting her hand on Peter's shoulder. They parted, just slightly, and turned toward her. She smiled. "As lovely as this is, we need to go."

Peter glanced at his watch. "Oh, yeah, we do." He looked back up to Neal and kissed him again. "We're not done."

"We're not," Neal agreed, feeling pleasantly aroused. "You two have fun."

Elizabeth pressed a kiss to his mouth. "It'll be more fun when we get home."

"Go," Neal said with a smile. He watched as Peter helped Elizabeth into her coat, then grabbed his own. "And bring me back something tasty."

Peter winked at him, and with that, Neal was alone, except for Satchmo standing at his feet. "Well, Satch, it's just you and me. How do you feel about _La Bohème_?"

Satchmo looked up at him, then ran for the kitchen. Neal laughed, put on the music, and followed Satchmo to make himself a quick dinner. After he ate, having fed the dog several pieces of angel hair pasta from his fingers, he settled down on the sofa with his drawing pad and opened the box of charcoals. He sketched whatever was in front of him: the half empty wine bottle, Satchmo, asleep on the floor, and house plants.

It was strange, being in the house alone. He still wasn't used to being alone there. The house felt like a foreign thing, unowned by Peter and Elizabeth when they weren't there. It wasn't _his_ home, not yet. He felt like a guest who kept all his things here, and slept in their bed. It was unnerving, even after everything, that they trusted him.

Neal flipped to a new page in his book and sketched from memory, mimicking the lines from Matisse's _Bathers with a Turtle_. Though the charcoal did little for it, Neal was still pleased with the outcome. He missed his forgeries, and all the work that went into ensuring every line was exactly like the original, without mistake. Sometimes, he felt wasted now, though he wouldn't admit it. Peter and Elizabeth both encouraged him to pursue his own art, but Neal sort of liked his name on the art world where it was. It was still something to think about.

There was a knock at the door, and later Neal would remember this moment as being average. It didn't feel life-changing, or even day-changing. It was just an average moment.

He glanced up at the clock as stood up. It was certainly too late for any guest of Peter or Elizabeth's, unless it was an emergency. Anyone else would call first. He set his pad down on the coffee table and walked to the door, opening it slowly, but he released the knob and his hand dropped to his side. He stared for a moment, making sure he was seeing what he thought he was.

"Kate."

He had imagined this moment before. The one where Kate knocks on his door, though it was typically imagined as his room at June's house, and sometimes they fight, as he angrily; tearfully, asks her why she left after the plane exploded, leaving him thinking she was dead for more than year, and leaving all of his questions unanswered, even if it should have been the most obvious answer of all. That she never loved him.

Though, most of the time, in his fantasies, he just pulls her into an embrace and forgives her before she can even say the first word of her inevitable apology.

In reality, Neal stared at her, unsure what to do. He hadn't thought about what he would do if she showed up _now_. He didn't expect her to. She left him for the last time three years ago, and those fantasies were only that: fantasies.

Yet, here she was, standing in front of him, real, solid, and gorgeous as ever. She looked exactly the same as the last time he saw her, from the distance of the hangar to the plane.

"Can I come in?" she asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Neal stared for a second too long before it registered that she had spoken. "Yeah, yes." He stepped back, half-tripping over Satchmo, who came over to investigate the stranger in the doorway.

"Nice dog," Kate said as she walked into the house. She dropped a brown canvas backpack onto the armchair, and looked around, eyeing the books on the shelves, the pillows on the couch, and the exits. It was a habit; Neal did it too when he was in a new place, spotting every possible escape route.

"Kate, what are you doing here?" Neal asked. The initial shock had worn off, and the little seams of his mind stitched together, giving him the ability to once again construct complete sentences.

She spun around on a heel to face him. Neal looked her over now that she was in the light of the house and noticed that her clothes were oddly casual for her: cargo pants, a hooded sweatshirt over a blue tee, and no jewelry except small, nondescript silver hoop earrings.

"I'm actually looking for Peter," she replied. "Is he here?"

Neal shook his head. "No, he and Elizabeth went out to dinner. They should be back... I don't know, an hour?" He paused, realizing he was being rude. "Do you want to sit down?"

Kate sat down at the dining table without a word. She kept looking around, focusing on anything but Neal's face. Finally, she asked, "What were you drawing?"

"What?" Neal looks down at his hands, his fingertips blackened with charcoal. "Oh. I was just messing around." He sat down across from her, rubbing at the black spots on his fingers, and letting his shoulders relax. He looked at her, and she did look different than she did before. She looked older, though she still didn't quite look her age.

"You're in trouble, aren't you?" he asked.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked with a laugh. "No one followed me, not yet. No one will come to your house. They won't know I'm gone until Monday. You know I can fall off the map."

"Who would follow you?"

Kate didn't quite meet his eye. "For the last year I've been working for Joseph Hanrahan. In Los Angeles."

Neal exhaled through his nose. "Joseph Hanrahan. No wonder you're running. What did you to do him? What were doing _for_ him? He's a burglar and murderer. What did he need you for?"

"Well, I didn't kill anyone."

"So you've become a burglar," Neal replied. He stood up and walked into the kitchen, selecting a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. "I'm surprised. You were always good at cons and scams, but you never had much touch for the heist. Did you steal something from him?"

"No. Well... no." Kate bit her lower lip.

Neal poured two glasses and sat back down. He pushed one of the glasses toward her. "You're not sure if you stole something?"

She looked at him, staring into his eyes for a long moment, and Neal had the feeling she was sizing him up. Finally, she pushed the glass back toward him. "I can't."

"You can't?" Neal said, just as it dawned on him. "_Oh_."

"No one was more surprised than me," Kate said.

Neal sipped at his wine, though he wanted to drain the glass completely, then drink the one he poured for her, but he had to keep his composure. "So, you work for Hanrahan, you steal things for him, he kills people, and..."

"I was fucking him."

"You're fucking him, and you get pregnant. You realize, 'hey, maybe raising a kid with a guy who thinks murder is the perfect way to solve his problems isn't such a good idea' and you come here looking for Peter. You want protection from the FBI. You tell them all the things you did, and all the ways they can get to Hanrahan in exchange for immunity, or a slap on the wrist."

Kate nodded. "Pretty much. I guess you're still working for the FBI yourself."

Neal shook his head. "No, but I know how it works. Why Peter?"

"He's the only FBI agent I know. I know he'd listen to me."

Neal snorted and took another drink. "He's not the only FBI agent you know," he muttered into his glass.

Kate blinked, then frowned. "Neal, that was years ago. Fowler... he wasn't an ally. He was a means to an end."

"What end?"

"One I didn't get. His boss didn't expect either one of us to survive that explosion, and that's why I had to get away. You had Peter to protect you, and I had no one. When I came back into the country, it was under Joseph's protection. That came with strings. Lots of them."

Neal's grudge faded away, and he set down his glass. "Kate, that wasn't... the sex wasn't one of those strings, was it?"

She didn't say anything.

"Jesus, Kate. Why didn't you come to me sooner? We could have helped you."

Kate laughed. "Are you kidding me? Peter wouldn't have believed a word I had to say then. He might not even believe me now. And are you telling me this isn't a string?" She waved a hand around the room. "When I looked Peter up to come to him, and I looked him up, not you, I was shocked, Neal. You're _living_ with him?"

"And his wife," Neal said quietly.

"And his dog," Kate added. She shook her head and sighed. "I didn't mean to redirect. This isn't about you. I'm sorry."

Neal nodded his acceptance. He didn't have to explain anything to her, but there was suddenly a strange feeling of comfort. This was _Kate_. There was a time when he trusted her more than anyone else, and while that wasn't still true, and he could never trust her completely, but he remembered that he could talk to her.

"It's not a string," he said. "We wanted... we had to wait almost a year. It would have been longer, but with all the cases I assisted on and good behavior, I got my tracker taken off six months early and I was no longer in Peter's custody. I moved in a month later."

Kate raised her eyebrows. "Good behavior?"

"Do you know how hard it is to not get caught when you're wearing a GPS tracking anklet?"

She laughed. "Now, there's the Neal Caffrey I know." She reached across the table and put her hand over Neal's. "It doesn't mean anything anymore, but I'm really sorry. About everything. And not just because I'm in a bad situation. I've missed you, Neal."

"I've thought about you a lot," Neal replied, knowing that he didn't admit to missing her too. He did miss her sometimes, when he thought about Edvard Munch, Paris in the summertime, or when that Goo Goo Dolls song came on the radio. Tiny things could bring back memories of Kate, and he had so many memories. For a moment he would miss her terribly, but he wasn't desperate anymore. He didn't need to miss Kate so much these days.

"Good thoughts?" she asked with a smile.

"Mostly."

"I'll take that."

He smiled and pulled his hand away. "Are you hungry? I made pasta with olive oil, a little garlic. I can heat it up, if you're interested."

Kate nodded. "That sounds great. Thank you."

It was an excuse, really, to stand up and walk away from the table. He heated up the leftovers in the microwave and put it on a plate for her. "I always make too much," he said, setting the plate and a glass of water in front of her.

"I remember," she replied. "Though you haven't cooked for me in, what? Seven years?"

"This isn't cooking for you. It's just leftovers," Neal said. He picked up the second glass of wine and sat down in the chair, leaning back to watch her eat.

He remembered the last time he cooked for her. It was three days before Peter arrested him. It had been grilled scallops and shrimp with a red pepper and pineapple chutney, and he had made enough for them to keep eating throughout the entire evening. They drank two bottles of Riesling, then made love on the living room floor. Afterward, Kate declared she had to eat more, and didn't put her clothes back on. Neal could remember rolling onto his stomach to get a good look at her in the kitchen, watching the way the light complimented her skin in the dimly lit apartment, and feeling completely satisfied.

They had been happy. Sometimes that was easy to forget.

Neal looked up when the door opened, and Peter and Elizabeth walked inside. As strange as the whole evening had been, things were suddenly put right by their arrival. The house stopped being a foreign place, and it was home again.

He met Peter's eyes first, and before he could say anything, Peter saw Kate. He raised his chin with a quick appraisal of the situation: Kate sitting at his dining room table eating angel hair pasta, and Neal with two glasses of wine, and yet, strangely, Peter didn't look surprised. Elizabeth, on the other hand, looked totally confused.

"Hello, Kate," Peter said, his voice steady.

Kate set down her fork and looked up at him. "Hello, Peter," she replied.

\--- --- ---

"So, that's Kate," Elizabeth said in a low voice. "She's not what I expected." She and Neal sat on the couch, watching Kate and Peter at the dining room table, talking. Peter had a pad of paper and a pencil, writing things down as she spoke.

Neal reached over and took Elizabeth's hand. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Someone... larger than life? Maybe even a little unreal. And here she is, in my house, and she's just a woman." Elizabeth paused and turned her head toward Neal, but didn't quite look at him. "She looks so young."

"Two years younger than I am," Neal replied, "but she's always looked younger than that. People constantly assumed she was my little sister. She was seventeen when I met her, and I think she stopped aging at twenty-two. I was jealous."

"Seventeen?" Elizabeth hesitated, her brow furrowing for a moment. "You've known her longer than I've known Peter."

He shrugged. "Not consistently. We met in college, she was freshman, I was a sophomore."

"When did the crime start?" Elizabeth asked, and for a moment, he wondered why she wanted to know. But as he thought about it, he realized that didn't talk about that time with her and Peter. He didn't talk about Kate, and now Kate was here. Of course Elizabeth was curious.

Neal chuckled. "Around then. Pretty stuff. It was a supplemental income, and better than getting a real job. One summer, her father bought her plane tickets for two weeks in Paris for her birthday. She and I went, and at the end of the two weeks, she went back to school and I stayed. We did letters and emails for a while, but... we were both busy and the distance was hard."

"Why did you stay?"

"I was bored. I could take a six week course on twenty years of Magritte, or I could take three days in a library and learn about his entire life and all of his art. I could form my own opinions, not swayed by professors and curators who were all assholes anyway. It was easier and more cost effective to do it myself. And in Paris I met a guy who was my mentor. I learned everything I know about being a criminal from him. I stayed with him, I met Alex, and for two years the three of us went around Europe and a little bit of Asia, working."

"Then you came back," Elizabeth said.

"I came back. Alex and I weren't in the States a week when Kate was knocking on my door. It was like no time had passed at all, and we picked up right where we left off. Nothing had changed."

"And now?"

"Now?" Neal repeated.

"Three years later and she's knocking on your door."

He looked at her, and he realized she wasn't curious, she was _worried_. She knew everything he did for Kate. The great lengths, the sacrifices, the crimes, the near misses, and he did it without thinking about the consequences. Now, Kate was suddenly on his doorstep. Neal should have realized Elizabeth's thought process when she started asking questions.

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "A lot has changed this time."

Elizabeth nodded, visibly relaxing. "She's in a lot of trouble, isn't she?"

"She wouldn't have come here otherwise."

They were quiet for a few minutes, watching Kate and Peter talk, until Elizabeth stifled a yawn.

"I think they're going to be at this for a while. I'm going to tell Peter goodnight, then go to bed." This time, she squeezed his hand. "Join me?"

Neal smiled. That was an offer he couldn't very well refuse. "I'll be right behind you."

He followed her across the room, and she put a hand on Peter's shoulder. He looked up at her.

"Going to bed?"

She nodded. "Going to be busy for a while?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, reaching up to place his hand over Elizabeth's. "I'm going to start making calls and get Kate set up in a safe house for the weekend. I'll get her settled and I'll be back by morning."

Elizabeth ran a hand through his hair. "Be safe," she said, leaning down to kiss him. "I love you."

"Love you," Peter said. He waited until she was a few steps away to turn his gaze to Neal. "You going up to bed, too?"

"Yeah, but... could I have a word, first? In private?" Neal asked.

Peter nodded, and stood, placing a hand at the base of Neal's spine and leading him to the front door. "What's up?"

Neal almost laughed. What else would he want to talk about? "You didn't look surprised to see her here. Did you know?"

"That she was coming? No." Peter sighed, when Neal gave him an exasperated face. "I'd heard through the grape vine that she was working for Hanrahan."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Peter's gaze shifted to the floor, looking somber. In fact, he looked _old_. "I was afraid you'd go after her," he said. "I didn't want you to leave, and I couldn't stop you if you did."

Neal was ready to be annoyed that Peter couldn't trust him. He still had contacts and heard things. He knew Kate had been in LA, though he didn't know any of the details of what she had been doing there. He just wanted to know she was okay. After everything, he still cared about her, and it seemed Peter knew that. He was maybe even afraid of it.

So, instead of annoyance, Neal felt a surge of fondness. He pressed his forehead to Peter's. "You'd find me," he said. "You always do."

Peter grabbed Neal at the back of the neck and kissed him hard. Neal groaned, then relaxed into the kiss, his hands sliding around Peter's face, and for a moment Neal could forget about everything except Peter's mouth, and his hands; his smell.

"I love you, Neal," Peter mumbled.

Neal smiled, and pulled back his head enough to look Peter in the eye. "I love you." His eyes flicked to Kate, who was watching them, then he looked back to Peter. "You'll take care of her."

"I will," Peter said.

Neal touched his hand to Peter's cheek, then looked past him, into the dining room. "Night, Kate."

She smiled halfway, then said, "Night, Neal."

He nodded to Peter, then started up the stairs.

"Neal," Peter said.

He stopped, and turned. "Yeah?"

"When we get her secured, I'll see what I can do about getting you in to see her." Peter looked up at him, and Neal tried to memorize every line of his face, already imagining the strokes of the charcoal under his fingers, sketching this moment. Peter was trusting him with this.

Neal nodded. "Well, you let me know." He winked and turned, walking up the rest of the stairs. He slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"You and Peter work it out?" Elizabeth asked. She sat up in bed wearing one of Peter's old tee shirts, holding a book in her hands, with her thumb marking her place between the pages.

"There wasn't anything _to_ work out," Neal said, lifting his shirt over his head. "We're fine."

"Good," she replied, and waited, watching him undress. She was good at knowing when to back down off a subject, and the way to change it. "Like that," she said suddenly. "Come to bed."

Neal looked down at himself, wearing red pajama bottoms and no shirt. He glanced up at her and grinned, tossing the matching pajama top back into the drawer. He crawled onto the bed next to her, and burrowed under the blankets. He slid his hand up her leg, resting it on her hip, his fingers toying at the flimsy elastic straps of her underwear.

She smiled at him, welcoming the touch, but Neal felt like he was doing something forbidden without Peter there to approve of it. He smiled back up at her. He had to take his criminal activities where he could.

Elizabeth set her book face down on the bedside table, and switched off the light. She slid down, rolling onto her side to face Neal. She placed her hand on the side of his face and leaned in closer, kissing him.

"It's weird to be in bed without Peter," Neal admitted quietly.

"It was weird being at the dinner without you," she replied, curling up to him. "It was like the elephant in the room. It's so natural for us to talk about you, and suddenly we couldn't. I don't want to do that again."

Neal rested his chin on the top of her head, and didn't say anything as Elizabeth drifted off to sleep. He replayed his conversation with Peter in his mind and realized he didn't exactly reassure Peter that he wouldn't have gone after Kate. Reality was, he didn't know if he would have or not.

\--- --- ---

Neal and Elizabeth were eating breakfast the next morning when Peter finally came home. He kissed them both and grabbed a piece of toast, but didn't sit down.

"We got her settled in at about seven this morning. She's asleep." Peter took a bite of toast, then with his mouth half full said, "I'm going to catch a few hours myself, then go back in. There's an agent coming in from the LA office. He's been after Hanrahan for almost four years, and he's not too happy Kate came all the way to New York to turn herself in to me."

"She trusts you," Neal said.

Peter shrugged. "I think she trusts _you_."

"Maybe."

"We've put her in the safe house in Harlem. We have a lot of work to do today, but Kate'll be in after eight, and Lauren will be on watch. She'll let you in, no questions asked."

Neal didn't miss the jerk of Elizabeth's head as she looked up at Peter, or the reassuring hand Peter set on her shoulder. They could have entire conversations in touching hands and pointed expressions. Neal could sometimes do that with Peter, but he hadn't even come close to knowing all of Elizabeth's subtle movements.

"Thanks," Neal said with a nod. "Get some rest."

Peter smiled and squeezed Elizabeth's shoulder, then headed upstairs.

Elizabeth frowned, turning to Neal, and he couldn't quite read her expression. "I wish I could stay. Maybe I could get Yvonne to cover the luncheon--"

"Don't worry about it," Neal said. "I'll take care of him. I'll make sure there's coffee when he wakes up. Don't want to send him out into the world decaffeinated."

"And who is going to take care of you?"

He grinned. "I take care of myself."

She reached out and took his hand. "You don't have to. You're a part of this family and we take care of each other. That's how it works."

"I know," Neal replied.

"Are you going to--" Elizabeth cut herself off, and closed her eyes for a moment. "No, it's not my business."

"I'm going to see her tonight," Neal said. "I just need to talk to her, and... it's a closure thing. I guess I can't ask you not to worry."

She smiled. "No, but I'll try." She pulled her hand back and studied him for a moment. "I have to go. Do you mind washing up?"

"Not at all."

She stood and walked around the table to press a kiss to Neal's cheek, just at the corner of his mouth. "Love you," she said, her hand at the back of his neck.

"Love you," he replied, keeping an eye on her as she put on her coat and walked out of the house, giving him a wave over her shoulder as she closed the door.

He really couldn't have asked for a better woman in his life than Elizabeth. She welcomed him into her life with Peter, even when Peter wasn't willing, and she was probably the one who first suggested bringing Neal into their home; into their bed. He didn't deserve this.

Neal was reminded of his first kiss with Elizabeth, right here in this house. He had still been in FBI custody, but would only be for another two months, and he was, for lack of better terms, dating Peter and Elizabeth. He was always over at their house, or they were taking him out to dinner. They were still feeling things out, and they couldn't move forward anyway, so they stayed in this slightly uncomfortable place that lasted a little too long.

_He had been over for dinner, and Elizabeth put on some of the jazz she liked so much. Neal had never heard it in the house before, and would later learn that Elizabeth's love for jazz was private, something she played during sex or an intimate dinner. Or in this case, after dinner, to pull Neal to his feet and engage him in dancing._

They danced in the space of floor between the living and dining rooms, Neal cracking jokes (about what, he couldn't remember), and Elizabeth laughing. He realized she was going to kiss him about a three seconds before she did; just enough time to prepare himself. They stopped dancing, standing there, kissing like some end shot of a movie. His hand that was on her back as they had danced moved seamlessly to her cheek, cupping her face. When the kiss broke off in a natural fashion, Neal turned his head toward the dining room table where Peter still sat, watching them, and he had a small smile on his face, like he held some wonderful secret.

That had been the moment Neal realized that this could actually work.

Sighing, the Neal in the present rolled up his sleeves and started washing the breakfast dishes.

\--- --- ---

As Peter promised, Lauren didn't ask questions when she let Neal into the secured apartment, but she did give him a pointed look that even his most charming smile couldn't deter. Agents who worked under Peter for any length of time were protective of him, and Lauren had worked with Peter for a long time. She was also one of the few people who worked out that there was something less than professional happening between Peter and Neal before Neal's sentence was up. She never said anything, but her concern for Peter about the whole situation, while non-verbal, was loud and clear.

Kate's room was simple. A table, two chairs, and a bed crammed in together in a small space. But it was private from the agents in the next room, which was really what Neal was hoping for when he arrived, grocery bag in hand.

"You brought groceries?" Kate asked after they greeted each other, exchanging kisses on the cheek. She was still dressed so casually, and now that Neal was looking for it, he could see the roundness of her stomach beneath her heather grey tee shirt.

"Well, I figured the FBI was feeing you crappy Chinese and bad coffee. Tonight, instead of bringing leftovers, I thought I'd actually cook for you." Neal set the bag on the table and started pulling out Tupperware containers. "I was going to make grilled tilapia, but then I remembered reading something about how you shouldn't eat fish when you're pregnant, or maybe it was just sushi, but I thought better safe than sorry."

"I appreciate the thought," Kate replied, grinning. "What did you make?"

"Chicken breast stuffed with goat cheese and sun-dried tomatoes, and I got organic green beans at the farmer's market this morning." Neal retrieved two wine glasses from the bag, along with a bottle of Chardonnay.

She raised her eyebrows. "You remembered that I should watch my fish intake, but not that I can't have a glass of wine?"

"You underestimate me." He reached into the bag again, this time coming up with a bottle of white grape juice. "Our finest Welch's."

Kate laughed. "What else do you have in your magic bag, Mary Poppins?"

"Just plates, silverware, and dessert. Chocolate custard." Neal winked and sat the table, serving up both plates. He poured the grape juice for Kate, and the wine for himself, then sat down across from her.

"How's the process?" Neal asked.

"Long," Kate replied, poking at her green beans with her fork. "I keep getting asked the same questions over and over. I've made the same statement three times today. And Lewis is an asshole, which I knew."

"Lewis is the agent from LA, right? The one working Hanrahan?"

"Yeah. He'd never touch Joseph without me, because Lewis isn't... he's not clever, and I think he knows it. That makes him angry. Especially being around someone like Peter, who is very clever, and the fact that I went across the country to turn myself into someone else, someone better, doesn't make him happy." She smiled. "Peter's been great."

Neal took a sip of wine. "He is great."

Kate considered him for a moment. "Can I... ask about that? I mean, I know you were obsessed with him, but I never suspected."

"There's not a lot to tell. Things sort of changed and progressed. I worked very closely with Peter for three and half years, and Elizabeth, she took to me. And Peter is... he's fantastic. When we had to wait as long as we did to move forward, it made it all the more obvious that we were doing the right thing."

"So, it's not a scam or a long con? I don't mean to assume, but--"

Neal shook his head. "No, I'd ask too. Lauren in the next room thinks I'm out screw them, and she doesn't mind saying so. But it's honest. I own a bakery now."

She laughed. "A bakery? Really?"

"Really. I bought it for a reason, and I never got around to selling it. It's not as much fun as a museum heist, but it actually turns a decent profit."

"Don't you miss it?" Kate asked. "You made crime an art. Your forgeries were inspired, and you loved your work. Forgive me, Neal, but this hardly seems like you. Honest job, cute home life... even when we were at our most stable, there was still travel and adventure."

"Of course there was travel and adventure. Our profession was crime. What's more adventurous than that?" Neal flashed her a grin, then sighed, letting the grin fade away. "Do I miss it? All the damn time. But I've changed. I grew up. I want to be this person with the honest job, because that's worth having for the home life. I never would have gotten over you without them."

Kate sighed, too. "I shouldn't have disappeared like that. I should have stayed."

"It's too late now. Things worked out the way they did. You did what you needed to do. If I'd been in your position, I would've done the same thing."

"No, you wouldn't. You would have waited for me."

Neal looked down at his plate, pushing green beans around with his fork. He didn't have anything to say to that. They ate in silence, through dessert, and Neal started packing the dishes into his grocery bag.

Kate stood up and walked the step and a half to the bed. She hopped backward on her bottom until she leaned against the wall. "You want to know a secret, Neal?"

He smiled at her. "Sure."

"Spending all day around Peter, I kept... this is embarrassing, but I kept picturing the two of you having sex. Is that weird?"

"A little," Neal replied, but he tried to keep down his smile. It felt wrong somehow to be pleased by this information. "How was it?"

"Not bad. Last night when you two were talking, I was watching. I was trying to maybe understand and then when he grabbed you like that..."

Neal grinned, unable to turn this one off. "He's really sexy, right?"

"He is!" Kate laughed. "I never thought about it before. Now I can't seem get it out my head."

"He does that to people." Neal sat down next to Kate, pulling his knees up to his chest. The cold from the wall seeped through his shirt and into his skin. From this angle, maybe it was the way they were sitting, or he was just noticing it more, but Kate's pregnant stomach seemed even more prominent.

"Do you want to see?"

Neal looked up to her face. He didn't realize he had been staring. "If that's okay."

"Yeah, of course." Kate lifted her shirt, revealing her belly. "It's not much to look at right now. Give it another month or two."

"Still..." He raised his hand. "May I?"

"Go ahead. It won't be long before strangers on the street come up and start touching it without asking."

Tentatively, Neal set his hand on the bulge, and his heart started pounding in his chest. This wasn't a kiss on the cheek or her hand on his. This was intimate, personal, and god, she was having a child. He could think it and say it, but something hadn't quite struck a chord until right then. Kate was having a baby, and something twisted in Neal's stomach as he realized it wasn't with _him_. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't supposed to be their story.

"Neal, please don't have that look on your face."

He looked up, and tried to wipe his face clean. "What look?"

"That look," Kate said. "The sad one."

"Just thinking," he said, taking his hand away.

She lowered her shirt back over her stomach. "I've been thinking about it, too. Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I was thinking about you. The first pregnancy. But the timing wasn't right for either one of us, we weren't ready for a baby, and with your... work, you were in prison less than two years later, and--"

"Hey," Neal interrupted gently. "I don't regret anything. We agreed it was the best thing, and it was. For all the reasons you just said. I thought... I thought we'd have more time. When we were ready, we could... I guess I always thought we'd have that happy ending."

"There isn't any happiness in endings," Kate said.

Neal shrugged. "Depends on the ending."

She leaned her head against the wall and smiled. "You're always so clever, Neal. Some things never change, do they?"

"Some things," he agreed faintly. His mind wandered back to college and his and Kate's first kiss. She had just come out of an art class and had yellow paint smeared across her cheek. He wiped the paint away with his thumb and kissing her had seemed like the most natural next step. She hadn't been surprised, and later Neal teasingly accused her of planting the paint there to get him to kiss her, and it became a bit of a running joke between them as she had always denied it.

He looked at the Kate now, so many years later, and no matter how much she had aged, she still looked so young. Maybe someday that would catch up with her, and she'll look in a mirror and find she aged fifteen years in a matter of days. Neal wanted to see that. He wanted to spend every day watching her. He wanted to see this baby grow up. He could do that. He could be that guy who raises another man's child out of love.

"I don't want to assume, so I'm going to ask. Did you..." Neal paused and took a deep breath. "Did you ever love me? I mean, really."

"I did," Kate replied. "I didn't visit you in prison every week for three years because I didn't care. But I... I couldn't love you the way you loved me. I wasn't capable of it then."

"And now?"

She smiled. "I grew up, too, Neal."

He didn't think when he leaned in and kissed her. It was happening when he realized he had done it, and he didn't stop. He had missed her, even as he fell in love with Peter and Elizabeth, there was always a part of him that still wanted Kate. He should have known the second he walked in the door that it was going to end this way.

Neal pulled back and sighed. "I should go."

"I'm sorry," Kate said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing her hoop earring.

"You didn't do anything." Neal smiled and touched her hairline briefly. "Except be consistently beautiful."

She chuckled. "Your charms don't work on me anymore, Neal Caffrey."

Neal kissed her cheek. "I'll come back tomorrow."

\--- --- ---

The lights in the living room were on when Neal arrived home. He opened the door to find Peter sitting on the sofa wearing a tee shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. Case files were spread on his lap and on the coffee table. The television was on some sports recap program, but the sound was nearly off.

"Waiting up for me?" Neal asked, setting his grocery bag down on the floor next to the sofa.

Peter chuckled. "How was your date?"

"It wasn't a date." Neal flopped down on the couch next to Peter. "It was dinner. And it was fine."

"You _cooked_ her dinner. It was a date," Peter said, smiling. He clapped a hand on Neal's shoulder, and left it there. "It's all right, Neal. I know Kate's important."

Neal looked at Peter from the corner of his eye. "I feel like this is a test."

Peter laughed. "It's not. After spending all night with Kate last night, I thought about what I was going to say to you this morning. I figured I had two options. I could be suspicious, worried, and try to keep you from her. And I could, you know. I could have kept you from her."

"Why didn't you?" Neal asked.

"I went with my other option. I trust you. I trust what we have here. And if I'm wrong then... maybe it's for the best." He squeezed Neal's shoulder, then pulled his hand away. He closed the folders on his lap, and stacked them on the coffee table before leaning back on the couch. "Some of those old feelings stir up?"

"No. Yes. I kissed her."

Peter's face was unreadable. "Did anything else happen?"

"No," Neal replied, trying to sound firm. He was never quite sure when Peter would think he was lying. He wasn't even sure if he was lying or not. Nothing else physical happened, but maybe something did, when he held his hand on her stomach; when he thought about what it would be like to live his life with her again. "I left."

"Okay. Fair enough."

Neal knew Peter didn't quite believe him, but at least he accepted the answer. He smiled and placed his hand on Peter's knee. "You don't have to worry, Peter. I did... I did everything I could for her, and I would have done more if she had asked, and I have absolutely nothing to show for it. With you and Elizabeth, I..." Neal paused and Peter wrapped an arm around his shoulders again. "I haven't done anything for you and you guys, you give me so much."

Peter leaned in and kissed the side of Neal's head, then stayed there, lips pressed to Neal's temple. He sighed. "We love you, Neal."

"I know." Neal turned his head and kissed Peter gently on the mouth. "Can we go to bed?"

"Yes, we can," Peter replied. He reached for the remote and turned off the television, then took Neal's hand, helping him to his feet. He didn't let go, leading Neal up the stairs.

The lights in the bedroom were still on, but Elizabeth was already asleep. Neal smiled at her as he walked over to the dresser and began taking off his clothes. He was half undressed when he noticed Peter just standing there, watching him.

"What?" he whispered, not wanting to wake Elizabeth.

Peter motioned to the bed. "You take the middle."

Neal smiled. "Thanks." He finished putting on his pajamas, and crawled onto the bed, sliding in next to Elizabeth. She moaned and rolled over to him, wrapping an arm around his chest.

"You're not my husband," she said, eyes still closed.

"No, I'm not," Neal replied.

She opened her eyes and smiled. "I'm glad you're home. I was worried." She tilted her head up and kissed him.

Neal opened his mouth to speak, but her eyelids were already drooping, and she was quickly asleep again, her head on his chest. He glanced over at Peter, who was just getting into the bed next to him. Peter just raised his eyebrows and smiled before turning to switch off the lamp.

There it was, those differences between Peter and Elizabeth. Peter wasn't worried or suspicious, or at least saying that he wasn't, but Elizabeth was telling him she was concerned. He could think that they planned it that way, the marriage version of good cop, bad cop, but Neal knew it was just how they were. Elizabeth, open, and Peter, less trusting and not willing to reveal his entire hand.

Neal couldn't sleep, and while he would usually get up to sketch or flip through the television channels, never actually watching anything, he stayed there in the middle of the bed, feeling Elizabeth's deep breathing against him, and listening to the sound of Peter's snoring and occasional indecipherable mumble.

His first kiss with Peter had been a surprise. There had been no natural build-up around it, no moment to prepare himself, much like the way Neal's feelings for Peter had came out of nowhere and simply were one day.

_They were at the office late, after everyone else had already gone home, working a counterfeiting case, fake bonds ("Your specialty," Peter said with a smirk when the case had come to them). It felt like they were right on the edge of cracking it, like some puzzle piece just needed to be shifted into place._

Peter was pacing the conference room floor, hand on the back of his neck, talking out the evidence again. Neal was sitting on the table, knowing it was something Peter never would have allowed if anyone else had been around.

"Maybe we should go home," Neal said. "Sleep on it and try and look at it fresh in the morning."

Peter, without warning, turned on a heel and grabbed Neal by the face, just behind the jaw, and pulled him up into a kiss. It was graceless and sloppy, but after the initial shock of it, Neal relaxed into the kiss, and reached for Peter, catching him at the arm. He had been dying for Peter to do this for months_._

Just as suddenly, Peter pulled away, stepping back toward the window, turning his back to Neal. "We can't do this."

Neal knew something was happening between them, and he wasn't the only one feeling it. There was a certain satisfaction in being right. He looked up at the back of Peter's head. "Maybe if you talked to Elizabeth--"

"It's not her." Peter turned back around and pointed to Neal's left ankle. "You still have sixteen months left on your sentence, in my custody. We can't do this when you're my responsibility. It could compromise my judgment, and it could cost me my job."

"Could I be transferred to someone else?"

"I don't trust anyone else."

"Has it crossed your mind that maybe your judgment is already compromised?" Neal asked.

"You think?" Peter snapped. He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. "It shouldn't have gone like this."

Neal frowned. "How should it have gone, then? We dance around the topic, ignoring it while checking out each other's asses as we leave the room? Stakeouts -- Peter, stakeouts have been hell. Except when you bring deviled ham, then it's hell for a completely different reason."

Peter laughed. "It shouldn't have happened at all, Neal."

"Maybe," Neal said slowly, "we should go home and sleep on this, too. We can figure it out in the morning, but I already know my answer. And I think yours is the same one. I know you, and you don't do things halfway. You're not going to kiss me on whim if you're not planning on following through. I mean, you've already discussed this with Elizabeth, haven't you?"

"Yeah." Peter sighed, rubbing his face. "Sixteen months isn't that long. If we're patient."

"I can be patient," Neal replied. "You know I can be very patient."

\--- --- ---

Neal tried to remain calm as he walked through the sea of desks, and up the stairs toward Peter's office. He had called an hour before, telling Neal to come in, but didn't tell him why. Of course, it had to have something to do with Kate. The office was empty, but he could see Peter through the glass walls in the next room.

He opened the door to the conference room without knocking. Peter stood by the window, and Kate sat at one end of the table, with Lauren to her right, along with a few agents Neal recognized, but didn't know by name.

Another man sat down at the far end, but Neal didn't recognize him at all. He was early forties with blond hair, and Neal instantly disliked him. Trusting his own judgment, he assumed this was Agent Lewis.

"Neal, hey," Peter said, walking around the table.

It was difficult for Neal not to lean for the quick kiss they always greeted each other with, but not when there was an audience of FBI agents. The natural pull was still hard to overcome as Peter took him by the arm and led him out of the room.

"What's going on that you couldn't tell me over the phone?" Neal asked.

Peter kept his hand on the back of Neal's arm, just above the elbow. "We were notified that Hanrahan booked a flight to JFK for tomorrow. He's getting in at nine-thirty AM," he said, speaking in a low voice, even though no one else was in hearing distance.

"You think he knows Kate's here."

"We do. We're moving her to another safe house for the night, and I can't tell you where it is. We're getting her out of the city first thing in the morning."

"Out of the city... to where?"

Peter frowned. "I can't tell you that either. _I_ don't even know."

Neal stared at him for a moment. "So it's like witness protection. You mean she's just going to be gone. Forever."

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Can I talk to her? Now?"

Peter nodded and gave Neal's arm a squeeze. "You can take my office."

Again, Neal wanted to kiss him, this time for being a good man who probably didn't trust Neal as much as he was letting on, but was trusting him nonetheless. "Thanks, Peter. I'll try and make it fast."

"Take your time." Peter squeezed his arm again and let go this time.

Neal took a step backward, then turned, motioning to Kate, who had been watching them, to meet him in the office. She got out of the chair and headed for the door separating the office from the conference room.

"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I said I'd see you," Neal said once they were together in the office, the doors closed. Though Neal tried not to pay attention, he knew Peter was watching them through the glass walls.

"I screwed up, Neal. There is no way Joseph should have known I was even gone until tomorrow. I don't know where I messed up." Kate walked around Peter's desk. She ran a finger over a framed picture of Elizabeth.

Neal shrugged. "Maybe you underestimated your importance."

"I didn't. I'm not that important, not this weekend. It's not like he knows I'm pregnant. He's going to come here and kill me." Kate looked around, frowning. "There aren't any pictures of you."

"He'd have to explain them. Most people don't keep snapshots of the convicts they catch cuddling with their wife." Neal sighed and walked around the desk to where Kate was standing, staring at the photographs. He came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "And Hanrahan isn't going to kill you. You're going to be taken care of, but Kate, if I'm never going to see you again. For real, this time--"

Kate turned around. "Come with me."

"What?"

"Tomorrow? Come with me. I know you're with Peter, and you can just say no to my face, but we could be happy together. You know that, right? We were once. We could be that family we couldn't be before."

Neal stared at her. "I don't think that would work with the witness protection."

"It would be just as easy to come up with the a cover story for a young couple with a baby on the way as it would for a single woman. Neal, I wouldn't ask you this if I didn't think a part of you might want it. After last night... you thought about this, didn't you? What it would be like to be with me? Raise this baby?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I thought about it, but that doesn't mean--"

"I know, I know." She leaned against the desk. "Neal, I'm scared. I'm thirty-three years old and I've never done anything by myself. There's always been you, or Matthew, and now Joseph... and the only one who was ever a good decision was you. I didn't even realize how true that was until I kept screwing it up. I'm about to be completely alone, and with a _child_, and I... I thought I should ask. I couldn't spend the rest of my life not being able to ever see you again and not know."

Neal knew he should say no. The obvious answer was a kiss on the cheek, wishing her good luck, and leaving the office, telling Peter he'd see him at home. Instead, he stood there and heard himself say, "I have to think about it."

"I leave out of here tomorrow at seven," Kate said. She reached up and stroked her thumb across Neal's cheek. "I love you. You are, without a doubt, the love of my life."

He didn't reply, but leaned down, catching her mouth with his. She leaned up against him, and he could feel the slight swell of her stomach, reminding him of everything he could be having. This life he wanted so desperately just three years ago, and many more years before that, now at his fingertips.

Neal broke off this kiss, and stared at Kate for a moment. "I'll think about it," he said, and walked back around the desk and out of the office. He tried to walk by Peter, who made no pretenses about the fact that he watched everything, without looking at him, but he did, and Peter had that same bland, unreadable expression he did the night before, when he asked Neal if things went beyond kissing.

_Yes, Peter, things have spun wildly out of control into a place far beyond kissing._

"Neal," Peter said, taking a step toward him.

Neal turned his head and waved Peter off. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Peter stopped. "Okay."

This was the moment when they would exchange habitual parting kisses and "I love yous", but they couldn't here, and for once, Neal was grateful.

\--- --- ---

Neal wandered up Broadway, staying the path through SoHo, and then, before he knew it, he was walking through Union Square. He had just been there the day before, buying organic green beans, when the sun was shining and things were still complicated, but Neal had been in a good mood. Now, with the setting sun, Neal shoved his hands in his coat pockets, hunching his shoulders to block the wind as Broadway began to turn west.

His feet began to hurt as he crossed Sixth Avenue, and he thought about hailing a cab, but where would he go? He kept walking, contemplating his options. Home, but Elizabeth would be there, and Peter would have called her by now, and Neal didn't think he could stand to see her face, worried and sympathetic. He couldn't tell her he kissed Kate and was actually contemplating leaving them forever, never to see them again.

It had been easier to leave three years ago, and it was hard then. How could he leave? On paper, it seemed obvious and simple.

He thought about going into a bar, but at he neared Times Square, the sidewalks began to fill out with tourists, and the appeal of going into any of the bars or restaurants faded. Through the Theatre District, he stepped over discarded theatre tickets and Playbills. There was something poetic about art reduced to litter on the street, but he couldn't quite make a well-worded connection.

This was _Kate_. Hadn't he done enough for her? What more did she want from him, other than love and companionship, and a good father (would he be a good father?) for her child? Was there a catch? Could he trust her not to leave? Again?

After another two blocks, Neal couldn't stand it anymore and hailed a cab to take him home. His feet tingled, and possibly hurt even more now that he was sitting. The seats smelled of Armor All, which was better than any alternative, but it gave Neal a bit of a headache. The driver spoke loudly into his Bluetooth while playing upbeat Middle-Eastern music that Neal, on any other day, might have enjoyed.

Dread washed over Neal when the cab finally pulled in front of the house. He reached into his pocket and didn't pay attention to how much he tipped the driver. He took a slow walk up the stairs, and opened the door. He was surprised to see Peter sitting at the dining room table with Elizabeth.

"What are you doing here?" Neal asked. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I made a point to come home early to talk to you," Peter said as he stood up. "I didn't think I'd beat you home. You should have called if you were going to go out. It's days like these I miss that tracking anklet. We were worried."

Peter didn't appear very worried, but behind him, Elizabeth did.

"Sorry," Neal said. He took his coat and hung it up, and turned back slowly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"It's too late for that, Neal. What happened in there?" Peter took a step backward, then moved toward the table. He sat down and motioned at the chair across from him. "Sit down."

Neal didn't want to sit down, but he did anyway. "Nothing happened."

"I _saw_ what happened. But what I don't know is what you two talked about, but I can guess that it's something we have the right to know about."

Neal took a deep breath. "She asked me to go with her."

"Into witness protection?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes going wide. She reached out for the coffee mug in front of her, and held onto it like it was a life preserver.

"Yeah."

"What did you say?" Peter asked.

"I told her I'd think about it," Neal replied, looking down at the table.

Peter didn't hesitate. "What's there to think about?"

Neal wished he had something to hold onto. He couldn't look at either one of them. God, he wished he could lie to them, fabricate some story that would make everyone happy, because he was still that person. Instead he shrugged. "She's alone and pregnant. I still care about her, and what happens to her. And you guys don't need me--"

"No," Peter interrupted, pointing a finger at Neal. "You're not going down that road. We need you, and more than that, we want you here."

Finally, Neal looked up. "You're telling me you need me more than Kate does. Compare the situations."

"I don't know how much Kate needs you, but I know you're pretty damn important in this house."

"Yeah, in this house, but I don't go to dinner with your parents. You don't even have a picture of me in your office. I make things so complicated that you can't tell anyone about my place in this house. You can't sit there and say your life wouldn't be easier if I wasn't here."

"God damn it, Neal!" Peter slammed his hand down on the table as he stood, causing both Neal and Elizabeth to jump. "This is exactly what you did three years ago. Don't tell me how much better my life would be without you, because I'm telling you now, it wouldn't be."

"How do you know that?" Neal asked.

"Because the last four years have been the best years of my life, and the last six months? Even better." Peter set his hands on the back of the chair and looked at Neal. "If you want to leave, if that's really what you want to do, I'm not going to stop you. It's your life, you're an adult, and it's no one's responsibility but your own. But if you think I'm not going to fight for you, you're wrong."

Neal turned his face away from them both, and after a moment, he felt Elizabeth's hand cover his own.

"Neal," she said gently, "what do you want?"

"I don't know. I understand what you guys are saying, but when I'm with Kate, it's not so easy. I've spent my entire adult life in love with her. It's like if Peter asked you to choose between me and him. It'd be obvious, right?" Neal paused and sighed. "Sorry. Redirecting."

Elizabeth squeezed his hand. "Are you still in love with her?"

Neal nodded slowly. "I am. I never stopped."

Peter turned, hitting the door frame with his hand as he walked into the kitchen.

"Honey," Elizabeth said after him. She looked to Neal and sighed. "Neal, I hope you know that we love you. Any decision you make, make it on what you want. Not what on what you think we want, or what's less complicated. If we have problems, if you want to talk about dinners or pictures, we can do that."

"It's not about that," Neal said.

She smiled, squeezing his hand. "I know."

Neal pulled his hand away and stood up, walking to the stairs. "I'm going to hole up in the guest room. I can't..." He held up his hands. "I just can't."

"I'll bring you up some dinner later," Elizabeth said.

"Thanks," he said. His gaze shifted to Peter who was standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, and staring at Neal for a moment before he turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Neal closed his eyes and walked upstairs, shutting himself in the guest room. There was no way he could stay in his bed with Peter and Elizabeth while he contemplating leaving them. It was barely eight pm, but Neal stripped out of his clothes and climbed into bed. He meant to think about it, go over the facts and his feelings, but he only ended up drifting off to sleep.

When Neal woke up, the digital clock on the nightstand read just past two in the morning. The bedside lamp was still on, and he found himself not alone in the room. Elizabeth was asleep on the bed next to him, on top of the blankets, wearing blue pajama bottoms and tank top, the shirt riding a few inches up her stomach. She wasn't cuddled against him as she did in their bed, but just there, turned to him, like she had been watching him sleep until she fell asleep herself.

Neal sat up, leaning on his elbow. He tugged down her shirt, lining the hem up with the top of her pants.

That was when he spotted that Peter was sitting on the floor, just inside the door. His head lolled to the side at an uncomfortable looking angle. The urge to wake Peter up and force him into bed was strong. There wasn't any sense in him sitting there getting a sore neck. However, that would involve talking to him, possibly even looking him in the eye.

Sighing, Neal flopped back onto the bed. He looked at Elizabeth's face. How could he spend the rest of his life and never see this face again? He remembered feeling that way about Kate when she walked out on him that day in prison, but he always knew he would find her. He had been certain of it. He wouldn't have broken out of prison if he didn't think he could find her, and where did that lead him?

He reached over and brushed a lock of hair away from her face, and Elizabeth opened her eyes. She smiled at him.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied.

She leaned forward and pressed a short kiss to his mouth. Her eyes were already closed when she fell back against her pillow.

Neal smiled to himself. It was unlikely that Elizabeth would even remember it happening. But he would.

\--- --- ---

Neal woke up with a start, looking for the digital clock. He twisted the wrong way at first, thinking he was in his bed, where the clock is on the opposite side. He looked to his left. 6:18. Elizabeth was still asleep in bed next to him, but the floor where Peter had slept was bare.

Neal leaped out of the bed and grabbed the clothes he wore the night before. He pulled them on as fast as possible, forgoing his tie and vest.

"Neal?"

He spun around. Elizabeth sat up in the bed, her wide eyes staring up at him. Her hair was a mess, knotting up in the back.

"El," Neal said helplessly, "I've gotta go. I'm sorry." He leaned down and cupped the back of her head, kissing her on the mouth. He pulled back, frowning. "I've gotta go."

"Neal, please," she said as he hurried out of the room. She said something else after him, but he couldn't hear what it was.

Neal hailed a cab, urging the driver faster, promising money if he could get him to the Federal Plaza before seven. The early morning traffic into Manhattan wasn't as bad as it could be, Neal reasoned, trying not to blame the driver that they seemed to hit every single red light.

The clock on the dashboard read 6:51 when Neal jumped out of the cab and ran in the building. He was on his way to Peter's office, but he figured she had to be somewhere else. It was a good enough place as any to start. However, before he even reached the elevators, he saw Lauren walking toward him.

"Lauren!" He called, running up to her. "Where is she?"

She shook her head. "Neal, you know I can't tell you."

"She's waiting for me. I'm not going to compromise the situation. Unless you want me to con you into telling me, but we can save ourselves a lot of time if you just tell me now. I need to talk to her."

Lauren sighed and said in a low voice. "Third floor. Interrogation room five. She's out of here in ten minutes."

Neal grabbed her and kissed her cheek. "Thank you." He started for the elevators, then changed his mind, opening the door to the stairwell, knowing a run up the stairs would be faster than waiting.

Heart pounding in his chest, Neal slowed when he got to the third floor, searching for the interrogation rooms. This wasn't a part of the building he was especially familiar with, so he was feeling his way around, counting down seconds in his mind.

Neal hurried down a hall, then backtracked. There it was. He took a deep breath, soothing the stitch in his side, and pushed open the door.

Kate's eyes lit up when she saw him enter the room. She stood up, grinning. "You came." Her smile faded as she looked him over. "Empty handed."

"I'm not going," Neal said, his gaze steady.

She nodded slowly. "I think I knew you'd say that. So... why are you here?"

He smiled and touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Do you really think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?"

"Oh, god, Neal." Kate threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close. "I'm so sorry."

Neal rubbed her back. "I know. I'm sorry, too."

"I screwed everything up."

He squeezed her gently. "And now you get a fresh start. Make the most of it?"

Kate pulled back and smiled up at him, her eyes pink with tears. She nodded. "I'll try. I really will."

"I know you will," he replied. He looked over her face, taking in her beautiful features for the last time. She really was stunning. It was easy to imagine that somewhere in her new life, someone would fall in love with her and her baby, and they could be as happy as he was with her once. "I love you, Kate. I have... I always have."

"Then why?" Kate asked. "I mean, you don't have to say, but why?"

Neal took a deep breath. "I thought about how I got here, and I realized that everything I did for you led me back to Peter. Breaking out of prison landed me four years with him. When I tried to leave with you, he was the only thing holding me back. He was what kept me from getting on that plane, saving both our lives. Every move I made for you just made me trust him more."

"And you fell in love with him."

"I did. Elizabeth too."

"It's good to know," Kate said, "that you're going to be happy."

"Hey." He brushed his fingers across her stomach. "So are you." Neal cupped her face and they leaned in together for a kiss. This kiss held no promises of old feelings or possibilities, but was simply their goodbye kiss, for the first and last time.

They parted and Kate smiled. She brushed a curl away from Neal's forehead. "Goodbye, Neal."

"Goodbye, Kate," he replied, he stepped back and opened the door.

"Neal?"

He stopped, turning back to her, but didn't quite close the door. "Yeah?"

She smiled, laughing, as she said, "You remember that day in college? Our first kiss?"

Neal nodded. "Yeah."

"I didn't put the paint on my cheek on purpose. But when I saw it, I left it." Kate paused, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before turning her gaze back to Neal. "I wanted you to kiss me that day."

He laughed. "I knew it."

"You were looking for an excuse."

"You'll never know," Neal said with a wink as he slipped out the door, closing it behind him. He was in the hall for only a moment when the next door opened, and Peter stepped out. Their eyes met and they stayed locked like that for a moment before Neal asked, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough," Peter said. "Are you okay?"

Neal nodded. "I'm fine. You?"

Peter opened his mouth, then closed it again. He motioned for Neal to come to him. "Come here."

Relief washed over Neal, and he walked into Peter's arms. It was as though all the tension was released from him as Peter hugged him tightly, painfully, even, where his fingers dug into Neal's arms.

"I'm sorry, Neal," he mumbled.

"What are you sorry for?" Neal asked into Peter's shoulder, breathing in the comforting, clean smell of Peter's soap.

He was quiet for a moment, leaning his head against Neal's. "I thought you were going to leave. I didn't trust you."

Neal smiled and chuckled. "I wouldn't trust me either."

"We're past that," Peter said. "I need to--"

He was interrupted by an uncomfortable cough behind them. "Agent Burke?"

Neal and Peter parted quickly, and Neal turned to see Lauren standing a few feet away, appearing a bit guilty, or maybe embarrassed, at having seen their hug.

"We're ready for her downstairs," she said, still not quite looking at them. "Whenever you are."

Peter nodded, then pressed his cell phone into Neal's hand. "Call El. She called me when you left, crying."

Neal winced. "I left in a hurry."

"I gathered that." Peter hesitated, then reached for Neal, and pulled him into a kiss. Neal moaned in surprise. Not only were they kissing in the FBI building, but right in front of Lauren, and anyone else who might walk down that hall in that moment. Peter ended the kiss almost as soon as it started, but kept his mouth close to Neal's as he mumbled, "I love you."

"I love you too," Neal replied. He pressed another quick kiss to Peter's mouth, then stepped back. "Keep her safe."

"That's exactly what we're doing. You need to go now."

Neal nodded. "Yep." He cuffed Peter's shoulder and walked away, giving Lauren his most dazzling smile as he passed her. He took the elevator downstairs, and he walked to the front doors, he hit number one on the speed dial. He was preparing to make this up to Elizabeth in a big way.

\--- --- ---

_Two Months Later_

Neal was alone in the bed when he woke up, but he could hear the sounds of Peter and Elizabeth downstairs, talking, and Elizabeth's laughter, loud when unrestrained, and the smell of coffee. It sounded like (he checked the clock) 8:35 on a Saturday morning. He wondered how they managed to get out of bed without him waking up, but didn't dwell on it. Instead, he got out of bed and pulled on his robe. He made a quick stop in the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth before heading downstairs.

"Good morning," he announced as he crossed the living room.

Elizabeth was standing next to the table, holding a coffee pot, still in her pajamas and robe. "Good morning," she said, accepting the kiss Neal pressed against the corner of her mouth. "Have a seat."

Neal walked around the table, pausing to place his hands on Peter's shoulders, swooping down on him to kiss his cheek. Unlike Neal and Elizabeth, Peter was dressed, wearing jeans and a tee shirt. It was all Neal could do not to kiss his neck, but it was probably a little early for that. That always got Peter going. "Morning."

Peter tilted his head up, kissing Neal quickly on the mouth. "Morning."

Elizabeth walked behind Neal, smacking him affectionately on the bottom, then putting a cup of coffee in his hand. "Sit."

"Yes, ma'am," Neal said with a grin, sipping at the coffee as he walked to the end of the table and sat down. He blinked, as Peter and Elizabeth both looked down the table at him. He flashed them a weak smile. "Is there something on my face?"

"We want to talk to you about something," Elizabeth said. She looked to Peter and he nodded.

"Is this a good talking to?" Neal asked, suddenly a little nervous.

Elizabeth sat down on Neal's other side, across from Peter. She reached over and took Neal's hand. "That depends on your responses." She took a deep breath. "Neal, we're ready to come out."

"Come out?" Neal repeated. "You mean--?"

"We don't want to hide anymore," Elizabeth said. "We love you, and we aren't ashamed of that."

Neal took a slow look at her, then to Peter, and back. "So what does that mean, exactly?"

"We'd like to introduce you to our families," Peter said. "Not as 'our very good friend, Neal' but as what you are. Someone we love. Someone who is very important in this household. A part of _our_ family. And that's what we're going to tell anyone who asks."

"And after the shock, what are you going to tell them when they ask, 'isn't this the guy you spent three years of your life chasing around the country?'" Neal asked with a smile.

"I'll say, 'I caught him, didn't I?' Twice, even."

Neal laughed and shook his head. "What about the Bureau?"

Peter shrugged. "I've done good work for them for a long time. My personal life shouldn't make a difference."

"It does. It will. My sentence is over, but I'm still..."

"Not always. And if does..." Peter shrugged again. "I can find another job."

"You love your job."

"Some things are more important. They always have been."

Neal grinned. "And if you can't find another job, we could become jewel thieves. Yellow diamonds. What do you say?"

Peter shook his head. "Not a chance."

"Didn't think so."

"There's one more thing," Elizabeth said, reaching into her robe pocket for a moment. She lifted her hand and placed a gold ring on the table. She pushed it in front of Neal. "Obviously, it wouldn't be legal, but we would like to be able to call you our husband. After everything that's happened between the three of us, we thought it was time. We want to give ourselves to you."

Neal, with his mouth slightly open, couldn't take his eyes off the ring. "I don't know what to say."

"Look at that, El. Neal Caffrey, speechless." Peter chuckled and reached over, placing his hand at the base of Neal's neck. "All you have to do is tell us what you want."

"This. I want this," Neal said, nodding. He grinned. "I just wanted to come up with something a hell of a lot more clever than yes."

Elizabeth squealed, and threw her arms around Neal's shoulders, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. He laughed, hugging her with one arm. She lifted her head, and he pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She winked, then nodded to Peter.

Neal turned to him, and Peter sat up halfway, and placed a hand to Neal's cheek before kissing him.

Peter sat back and picked up the ring, holding it out to Neal. "Put it on."

"Aren't these things supposed to come with a ceremony?" Neal asked, taking the ring from him. He hesitated, and slid on the ring. "Heavier than I thought it'd be. You didn't put a GPS tracker in it, did you?"

"Now there's an idea," Peter replied with a laugh. "You'll get used to it."

Neal rolled the ring between his thumb and forefinger, and grinned. "So what now?"

Elizabeth told a hold of Neal's arm, just above the wrist. "First, breakfast. Then, whatever we want."


End file.
